


bravery

by ThanksForListening



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, don't ask me which episode tho bc i already forgot but one of the last couple ones, reference to anne's past, takes place during season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThanksForListening/pseuds/ThanksForListening
Summary: "Anne had decided long ago that she would never grow bored of staring at Cole’s statues.They seemed to dance, the way they stood scattered among the trees, each one in its own unique position. They had a rhythm to them, when you looked at the whole of it. It was as if they were meant to be together, to be seen not as individuals but as pieces of a bigger picture, like you would never truly understand them if you looked at just one."conversation i like to image happened between Anne and Miss Stacy during season 2.
Relationships: Anne Shirley & Muriel Stacy
Kudos: 17





	bravery

**Author's Note:**

> ok don't hate me but i can't remember which episode this takes place in. i know it's right after the scene where marilla anne and miss stacy are talking but i wrote it when i watched the show and now i don't remember. its in season 2 and its after anne burned her assignment and they're talking about it. i also might have made something up i'll explain that in the end note. 
> 
> also im a lousy american so i haven't seen season 3 yet rip no spoilers pls but also im sad

Anne had decided long ago that she would never grow bored of staring at Cole’s statues.

They seemed to dance, the way they stood scattered among the trees, each one in its own unique position. They had a rhythm to them, when you looked at the whole of it. It was as if they were meant to be together, to be seen not as individuals but as pieces of a bigger picture, like you would never truly understand them if you looked at just one. 

“They truly are beautiful sculptures.” The voice startled her, and she turned to find Miss Stacy standing behind her. Marilla had left already, and Anne had assumed that Miss Stacy had followed suit. 

“I think they’re the most magical things I have ever laid my eyes on, even more so than the Lake of Shining Waters.”

“I hope I get the chance to meet him someday, your friend the artist.”

“Oh, you would love Cole, Miss Stacy. He is truly the most marvelous of people.”

“May I ask you a question, Anne?” She said, and Anne nodded. “Why do you want me to like you so badly?”

“I—“ Anne stuttered, that sinking feeling of dread forming in the depths of her stomach. She had begun to believe she’d never outgrow that instinct, the one that always prepared herself for pain. 

“I’m honored, don’t get me wrong,” Miss Stacy continued, “I just don’t understand it. You don’t know anything about me — why would my opinion matter so much to you?”

“I suppose everyone’s opinion matters to me,” she said softly. 

“Do you have any idea as to why that might be?” Her voice was so soft, so light and without judgement, that Anne didn’t quite know how to proceed. It didn’t sound like she was about to be punished, but why else would she be asking if not to scold her on her vanity?

“I suspect it might be because it’s the most splendid feeling in the world. It’s intoxicating, Miss Stacy, to have people look at you and like what they see. To have people who want to spend their time with you, who want to listen to what you have to say.” She looked back at the sculptures. “Being wanted and being liked are so intrinsically intertwined. I suppose that’s why it matters to me.”

“That’s a very normal feeling, Anne,” she said in that teacher voice that made her feel both as if she was being scolded but also as if she was learning a valuable lesson. “But you know, there are worse things than not being liked.”

“I’m not quite sure there are, Miss Stacy.” She turned back toward her teacher, and felt a flame ignite in her chest at the look on her teacher’s face, the one that said without words that Anne could not possibly know more than what her age deems she must. “I assure you, I am no stranger to the horrors this world has to offer.” Anne spoke with a power she often kept hidden from her teachers, one she rarely used even with Marilla. “But it is my experience that not being liked, not being wanted, either leads to those horrors or makes them infinitely worse.”

“How so?” The look from earlier had disappeared, and Anne only saw curiosity on her teacher’s face. 

“People don’t hurt those who they like. And those who are wanted never have to suffer the feeling of being completely and entirely alone.” 

“Who taught you that?”

“Everybody, Miss Stacy. Everybody.”

Miss Stacy paused for an instant, before saying, “You’re fairly young to have learned such a horrible lesson.”

“I may only have fourteen years, but I have spent most of them without the benefits of childhood innocence.”

“And why is that?” She asked, and Anne felt shocked for a moment, at the realization that one person on this island truly had no idea who she was. Where she came from. 

“Because I’m an orphan. Or, I was, until the Cuthberts adopted me just over a year ago.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, and Anne didn’t want to think about what that tone implied. 

“That isn’t gossip, by the way. Everybody knows it, and it’s about me, so I think I’ve still managed to learn your lesson. Although, I suppose perhaps at one point it would have been considered gossip. But can a person’s very being be considered gossip? I’m as much an orphan as I am a girl with red hair, and no one would say discussing the color of my hair is gossip.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Miss Stacy said. She stared at the sculptures, and for a short while didn’t speak a word. The silence seemed to linger, slowly filling the space between all the statues and trees that surrounded them. Anne couldn’t stand it. 

“I’m sorry." 

“Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything about it. People get uncomfortable when I talk about where I came from.”

“Does it make _you_ uncomfortable?”

Anne shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t want to remember. Especially last year, I’d try to pretend it never happened, pretend I was like everyone else. But I still haven’t quite figured out what’s normal and what isn’t, so I haven’t had the most success with that plan. I’ll think I’m describing something everybody experienced, and then I notice the way they’re all looking at me, and I realize that most people haven’t known the feeling of a whip on their back, or of sharing a room with more people than you can count, or of spending nights without food.” She paused a moment, before adding, “I don’t think they like being forced to acknowledge that real people experience all that bad stuff all the time. Especially not someone who’s like them now.”

“I think you may be right,” she said. “And if you ever have questions, you should know that you can always ask me. That is, assuming I’m still here. I’m not too sure how far those young mothers are willing to go to get rid of me. It seems I’m the talk of the town.”

“Thank you, Miss Stacy,” she said with a smile. “Although I think Marilla will wish you’d have come sooner. As it is, I’ve already done more than enough to establish myself as the resident scandal in Avonlea.”

“Don’t look now, but I think I’m coming for your title,” Miss Stacy teased, and Anne laughed, even though the sentiment wasn’t funny at all. But she knew more than anyone that you couldn’t get through life without laughing about horrible things. 

“I should go home,” Anne said, grabbing her books from the ground. “If I’m not back soon, Marilla will be sure that fox has come after me now that he’s gone through the chickens.”

“Hopefully I’ll see you in class soon, Anne,” Miss Stacy smiled. “And don’t forget — I’ll still be expecting that essay on the perils of gossiping. Preferably in one piece this time, and not burnt to a crisp?”

Anne laughed. “I promise I’ll try my best not to burn this one.” 

She turned to walk away, but Miss Stacy called out her name. “You’re very brave, Anne,” she told her. “I hope one day I can say the same for myself.”

“If you need bravery, you can always borrow mine,” Anne said with a smile. “I’ve found that courage is much easier when you have people with which to share it.”

She turned to leave, slowing her pace as she navigated through Cole’s artwork. The wind sang as it blew through the trees, and she felt as if she was one of the statues around her, dancing to the tune the Earth gave her with not a worry in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so idk if miss stacy knew that anne was an orphan?? i couldn't remember if it was addressed in the show or not (if it was when i wrote this fic i forgot so maybe i'm contradicting canon and if i am...oops). so im pretending it wasn't bc i wanted to write it. 
> 
> also can i say there is something so fun about trying to write in the voices of these characters i def need to do it more (would love fic ideas if you have them but not about season 3 yet rip)
> 
> i have one more AWAE fic written but i kinda think it might be bad so let me know if u want me to just post it anyway bc i have no shame and will publish garbage if i think people will read it.
> 
> also if u wanna talk to me about AWAE or fics or whatever hit me up on tumblr @thanks--for--listening. 
> 
> also i love kudos and comments more than life itself ok thats it bye


End file.
